With Grace: Hannah's Story
by all2him1
Summary: Chana must live with the reality of being childless after years of marriage to her husband, Elqanah. To make matters worse, her rival and Elqanah's second wife, Peninnah, torments her daily about her barrenness.
1. Chapter 1

"Thank you Lord for this work," Chana silently spoke as she prepared fig cakes for her husband and his children.

When she made fig cakes, crushed wheat, and wove her husband Elqanah's tunics, her mind didn't wander to her troubles. She didn't think about still being unable to bear a child after more than 25 years with her husband. She didn't think about him marrying his second wife Peninnah. She simply worked. Somehow that was enough to keep her mind off such painful things.

Even though she frequently thanked God, she couldn't help also questioning Him. She often wondered why her husband chose Peninnah, a woman who seemed to deeply despise Chana, as his second wife. She was a torment to work alongside; she mocked her endlessly about her barrenness and insisted that Elqanah loved her more. Her spiteful taunts left Chana angry and saddened, needing prayer to help her regain composure.

Forcing down the doubt that resulted from Peninnah's insults was difficult for Chana. Would she ever have a child? _Did_ Elqanah favor Peninnah more because she wasn't the childless one?

Through the years, his actions had proven to her otherwise. He spoke and acted towards her with the same tenderness and affection as when they were first betrothed, long before Peninnah became a part of their lives. Even that day, he stopped to talk with her, interrupting her while she sat on the roof spinning wool to be used on more garments for his sons and daughters—a task Peninnah begrudgingly did herself.

"Beloved," he began "You've been working since morning. Spend time with me." His eager brown eyes beneath long curly lashes were still as beguiling and persuasive as when they'd first met.

Without a word, Chana dropped her work for the time and followed her husband to the walled edge of the flat clay roof, away from the mounds of wool nearby. They stood staring out at the sky as the day wore off and the sun sank deeper into the clouds.

"You deserve this time," her husband said, as a light breeze wafted over her dewy skin. "You work yourself tired. Even Peninnah has her breaks."

Chana's pleasant moment was instantly halted by the mention of his second wife's name. With immense effort, she successfully warded off the image in her mind of her scowling face and refocused on her husband. His gaze was unwavering as he stood before her. "Beloved, you are still so beautiful," he said.

Chana's broad smile matched her husband's as she examined the features of his bearded face. Slowly, he bent down and brought his face nearer to hers, lightly pressing a kiss against her lips.

He hardly had these times with Peninnah. She knew because Peninnah complained ceaselessly about it. The time he spent away from his work talking to Chana clearly irritated his second wife, yet Peninnah insisted that Elqanah secretly loved her more because she could give him children.

A wave of sadness at this thought threatened to overcome Chana, until she felt her husband move his arms around her waist.

"I've worn out the tunic you made me," he whispered, pressing his chin down on the soft curls of her hair. "I wear it so often it has holes all over now." He wore all of the tunics she made him this way; it was a small victory over Peninnah that Chana often had to convince herself to be humble about.

"I'll just have to make another for you to wear until it's full of holes." She encircled her arms around his waist, smiling knowingly at the fact that she was already close to finishing his next tunic. She was simply waiting to surprise him now.

Times like these made her dolefully wonder how Elqanah could have hurt her so much by marrying again. Couldn't he have just waited on Yahweh to give them a child? Now, on top of suffering through the grief of her childlessness, she had to put up with Peninnah and her vindictive mistreatment. She was worse off now than before, and desperately yearned for their days with one another as youths, right before their betrothal.

She remembered first meeting Elqanah at a festival. The curls on his head were much longer now, but his dark, trancing eyes, sharp jaw, and pearl-white teeth were still the same. She'd seen him many times at the feasts before and watched as he handsomely matured. His tall, brawny stature made him stand out from the other young men there at the festival. It surprised her to find him watching her one night as they celebrated around a fire. Usually she would steal glances without him ever noticing.

When they had their first encounter, with their family nearby, she discovered that he'd been aware she was watching him all those times. Already flushed red at this embarrassing revelation, her face turned even redder when he assured her he hadn't minded her attention.

From then on she contemplated whether her sister also appealed to him, and whether he paid attention to other women who danced near the bonfire. More and more she grew curious as they continued to see one another at the festivals. The following year, she no longer had to wonder.

"You are truly a woman who rejoices in the The Most High," he'd complimented, just before going to her father to ask his permission to marry her. She thought back to her joyousness at all the festivals and her fervor in singing songs and dancing to God. It was then that she realized he'd been paying closer attention than she thought. Her heart soared like a free dove.

Those times seemed like faint memories now. Now she found it difficult to rejoice when she knew she had to start the day off with Peninnah.

She squeezed Elqanah tightly to shut the image of his second wife's taunting out of her mind. A contented sigh escaped her husband and he stroked her hair. "I was remembering how anxious I was for us to marry."

It eased Chana to know they were both recollecting the same thing. How perfect it would have been if they could go back to those times, if even just for the moment.

Chana looked up at Elqanah, smiling at her recollection. "How anxious you were?" She laughed. "I was anxious and frightened, terrified, in fact."

He peered down at her, his thick eyebrows knitted together inquisitively. "Leaving my Ima and Abba to come here to Zuph terrified me, until I began to see this as my home." She watched his curious expression change to one of amusement. They'd relived these moments before.

"Yes, my mother helped with that," he recalled with a laugh, referring to his mother's added effort to ease the transition.

His mother, Batyah, listened to Chana talk for hours about her brothers and sisters. No doubt her her aging mother-in-law had fallen asleep once or twice.

"You toiled over my chamber," Chana remarked, remembering again their younger days.

The artfully-built clay structure he'd constructed for her was scarcely furnished, but particular to her predilections and her father's approval. There were even painted clay vessels, dyed mats, and shelves inside.

"I most remember finishing your bridal chamber."

The slow, luring manner in which he spoke the words made her feel as though it were their wedding night again. Suddenly she was filled with longing to stay with him tonight. Elqanah's eyes, still attached to hers, suggested he wanted the same. She was sure at any moment he would confirm her belief with words. Unfortunately, that never happened. Peninnah called and immediately distracted his attention away from Chana.

He listened as she wailed his name again. "She sounds unwell."

He seemed curious but didn't leave with a sense of urgency. They both were well aware that Peninnah was good at being dramatic.

Kissing Chana's forehead, Elqanah walked away from her while she reflected once more on memories of happier times. Back when he'd built their dwelling, she'd imagined them having a child. Now she felt plagued by uncertainty. Surely the Lord had still found a way to bless her. Elqanah had wealth and prominence in their community, their home was beautiful and spacious, yet that still that did not suffice.

After Chana finished spinning her wool, she learned that Peninnah had somehow crippled herself while in the cereal fields. Chana didn't worry about the truth in this discovery, she was simply grateful that she would perhaps see less of his second wife while she recovered.

"It is her ankle," Elqanah informed, passing Chana as she prepared bread. She smoothed the rounded pieces of dough, flattening them with her hands while she bit back her words.

Her ankle? Chana thought. Before that, it was her wrist. She'd become the clumsiest woman in Ramah.

Chana suspected it had to do with how Elqanah and their mother-in-law doted on her when whenever she was injured or ill. They enlisted their maidservants to tend to her every need. She was treated like a queen and showered with attention, something she sought regularly. Whether her Ima-in-law and Elqanah truly felt sympathy towards Peninnah was unclear, but they admirably tended to her.

"Elqanah has told me he will stay with me tonight," Peninnah's cloying voice spoke. Her sandals flapped against the floor as she hobbled closer to Chana where she was preparing the bread to be baked. Their domed-shaped stone oven sat directly in the middle of their enclosed courtyard amidst the cobbled lamp-lit footing.

"And you are happy, I am sure," Chana calmly replied, placing the rounded dough into the oven to bake. The wick in the bronze oil lamp on the surface beside her could hardly be seen. Chana told herself she'd stop before the flax wick burned down completely, but hadn't. Remorseful, she wondered if finishing earlier could have forestalled her from seeing Peninnah before sleep. "You toil as though you are a servant. How pathetic." Peninnah insisted. "As if it will make you any more useful in Elqanah's eyes."

Chana dug her nails into her palms as her anger mounted. With a few long and deep breaths, she was able to gain control over it as she always did. Slowly she turned to face the woman whose very presence tormented her. Long raven-colored waves of hair hung from beneath her linen headdress, accenting her honey brown eyes and rich brown skin. Indeed she was as beautiful as the men in Ramah said she was. Hardly, however, was she a pearl, as her name suggested. Chana remembered weeping when Elqanah brought his second wife to their household. Rather than offering comfort or showing kindness, Peninnah had only mocked Chana. She'd decided immediately that Chana was "cursed."

"Please leave me alone, Peninnah."

Chana stared into her rival's scrutinizing eyes with her own tired ones hoping that Peninnah would grant her this one wish to be alone. She knew she would start back up with her taunting the next day, but she was much too weary to bare it now. Relief swept through her when Peninnah simply hobbled away, mumbling something about tonight with Elqanah as she did. Chana pushed down her bitterness towards Peninnah as she asked, "Lord, when will this end?"

It was a question that plagued her heart and mind every day. She was cursed with not only childlessness, but an enemy in her very own household. How could her faith be rewarded with such affliction?

Chana sometimes found hope in thinking of Sara and Abram. Yahweh had closed Sara's womb, but had also opened it. Sometimes she believed that Yahweh would do the same for her. "Lord, I pray that whatever is to come will be in your will," she whispered, after she had finished baking the bread. Once it was stored for the next day, she retired to her chamber.

She found Elqanah waiting for her once she arrived there, and was delightfully surprised. Peninnah lied to provoke me, Chana thought, invigorated now by the sight of her husband. So I was right, she thought. He did want to stay with me. She couldn't help the sense of triumph that surged through as she dressed in her robe and laid beside him on their cushioned bed. At once, Elqanah's arms welcomed her into his embrace, his lips consuming hers with the same passion that had blazed in his eyes earlier that night.

For the moment, she could not feel her anguish.


	2. Chapter 2

Adhering to purification laws, Chana rose the next day to pray and bathe in a nearby stream before retiring to her chamber to rest until evening.

Although she appreciated the time to herself while Elqanah also rested and the servants tended to the household, she still longed for the distraction of work. She could only spend so long secluded in her chamber before she went mad.

After the sun went down, Chana eagerly rose from her bed and dressed by lamplight. She slid into her leather sandals and her blue robe. When she opened the wooden door of her chamber, the faint aroma of meat stock stew greeted her. It grew stronger as she followed the tantalizing scent pass the stone pillars in her home and out to the courtyard where a meal was being prepared by her two maidservants Lehabah and Nechamah.

Peninnah's daughters Emuwnah and Giylah had joined her servant girls. Emuwnah weaved a basket as Giylah helped prepare dinner, laughing while assisting Lehabah in adding spices to the steaming cauldron.

Both of Chana's maidservants were lovely, each in their own way. Nechamah, the eldest and quietest out of the two, was tall and reed-like with high cheek bones, a pointed chin, and exotic, cat-like eyes that spoke of her foreign ancestry. Lehabah, as her name fittingly implied, was the fiery, spirited one. Her eyelashes were long and dark, fluttering over eyes not quite the amber hue of Peninnah's, but not as dark as Nechamah's. That night, plaits hung down between the waves of her dark, waist-length hair as she stirred the stew.

"Mistress," Nechamah said, upon realizing Chana's arrival in the courtyard. "The evening meal will be ready soon."

Chana breathed in the aroma of the stew once more and wished it was ready right then. It would be her first meal of the day.

As she held her gargling stomach, Penninah's daughter Giylah skipped over to her smiling so wide that her cheeks turned her eyes into little crescents. Unlike her repellant mother, the ever-pleasant little girl was a joy to be near.

"Ima Chana," she said. "I added the spices and the lentils." The little girl pointed to the bronze cauldron behind her. "Lehabah is teaching me how to prepare her special stew."

Lehabah looked proudly at Giylah. "You are such a good little cook." She walked over to stand beside the girl and smoothed a hand over her long dark hair. "And how could I refuse willing help?"

"Your special stew smells delicious," Chana told Giylah while she shyly played with the little tunic she wore. It was identical to the one Lehabah had woven for her sister.

They returned to cooking the stew as Nechamah announced that she would prepare the table. At this announcement, Giylah's quiet sister, Emuwnah, walked away with her basket and into their house.

From a distance Chana heard Elqanah and her father-in-law's voice followed by Peninnah's. Nechamah's face wore a scowl.

_Peninnah, how have you displeased the servant girls now?_, Chana thought to herself as she she warily followed her maidservant into their house.

Grief tinged her heart as she awaited the sight of her rival. It was the worst part of her day. Purification laws had allowed her to avoid it, but now she'd had no choice but to face it. She walked into the spacious living area where the low table and reed mats were set out and saw the faces of Batyah, Elqanah, and his father, Yeroham. Next to him were Emuwnah and Peninnah's sons, Melek, Gamliy'el, and her eldest son Elnathan. Finally, beside them was Peninnah. Chana sat next to Elqanah and his father with Elnathan separating her from his mother.

Chana had sensed her anger instantly. Knowing her rival, her disdain was probably for reasons too numerous to name. For the moment, Chana wouldn't let those reasons get to her.

"How are you, my Chana?" Batyah asked from beside Yeroham.

Elqanah's mother, a woman whose round countenance was always brimming with joy, never failed to ask how Chana felt; she read her moods better than Elqanah could.

"Fine, Ima," she answered, while Batyah appraised her expression. "Just terribly hungry."

Elqanah smiled. "I am as well."

His father, a long-beared man, just as sturdy as his wife with a thick red robe, white tunic, and woven red sash, leaned forward to look at Chana. "Well, the stew certainly smells delicious."

"Father," Elnathan timidly began, while Yeroham whispered something to his his wife. "Will we listen to stories tonight?"

Elqanah stroked his beard, contemplating for a moment. A grin slowly spread across his face. "I shouldn't see why not."

His other sons, as usual, eagerly requested to join Elnathan. But the honors of listening to the elder men in the village tell stories was only bestowed upon Elqanah's first born son. Pass the frolicsome age of Melek and Gamliy'el, Elnathan seemed to yearn to soak up as much as he could from his father.

Already Chana saw glimmers of Elqanah's respectable character in his eldest son's dignified way of treating her. He spoke to her and honored her as if he were her son, something his mother begrudgingly permitted, for Elqanah's sake more than anything.

Lehabah arrived carrying a gold pot in her hands with a soft leather swatch protecting her from the pot's heat. Moments after, Giylah entered holding a gold pitcher filled with wine. She sat it down in the center of the table and positioned herself on the other side of Peninnah.

Chana stomach nosily resounded once more as her maidservants poured the hot liquid into her clay bowl.

"Thank you, Lehabah," Elnathan said, addressing her by name rather than "servant girl," as Elqanah's younger sons often did. The bright blush that colored her maidservant's face was even more noticeable now than when she'd first detected his attentive eyes on her.

Elnathan did not disguise his interest in the beautiful servant girl. He always willingly assisted her if she needed it and in between work teasingly conversed with her despite his mother's constant admonishment.

Aware of his son's feelings for the girl, Elqanah openly expressed his liking of Lehahbah, which merely encouraged his son and infuriated his second wife. He and Chana seemed to agree that Lehabah was an intelligent, noble, and pious young woman, though she lacked the status that his mother seemed to intensely desire for her son.

"Where is the bread?" Peninnah angrily barked at Lehabah, clearly enraged by her son's actions.

Lehabah grumbled, "I'll bring out the bread at once, mistress."

She walked away with Nechamah, and they both shared a look of aggravation as they left the room.

When they came back with the bread, everyone began sopping the stew. As they did, Nechamah went around and filled their cups with wine.

"Which one of you servant girls made this stew?" Peninnah yelled, drawing attention from everyone at the table as she coughed loudly. Her flat bread dripped with red-brown stew. "It has too many spices. It tastes horrible."

Chana heard Giylah sob. Nechamah stood as frozen as a carved idol.

"Mother," Elnathan began, his face conveying embarrassment mixed with anger. "Giylah helped Lehabah add spices to the stew."

Yeroham and Batyah, whose faces already were twisted in disgusted by Peninnah, assured Giylah that the stew was delicious.

Elqanah agreed. "The taste of cumin and ezov remind me of my Ima's stew from when I was a boy."

Chana's tasting of the stew was the same. It was as delectable as its aroma and neither lacked flavor nor was unbearably spicy. Penninah likely just wanted a reason to criticize Lehabah. She stood infuriated rather than mortified in the corner of the room.

"I am sorry, Giylah." Penninah said after everyone, including her, finished their stew. "It tasted delightful." She glanced at Elqanah after her apology. It was evident she was expecting a reaction, but his expression remained blank, neither approving nor disapproving of her show of remorse.

Beside Chana, Yeroham leaned in and whispered to his son. At first she'd thought it had to do with Peninnah, until she heard the name _Shiloh_.

Elnathan had clearly heard as well. "Shiloh, Father?"

His other two sons and Giylah bounced in excitement at the name. Emuwnah sat quietly and simply gazed up at her father and grandfather with wide, interested eyes.

Unlike Elqanah's children, Chana couldn't rejoice in hearing Yeroham and Elqanah repeat the name of the city of the tabernacle. It should have brought her immense joy, yet Chana could only feel sorrow.

"Yes," Yeroham's deep voice bellowed. "The time for our pilgrimage to Shiloh is nearing."

Peninnah's contorted face conveyed her displeasure at this announcement. Chana suspected she was just as grieved as she was.

For a few moments Elqanah was pensive, and then finally he spoke again. "There is much to be thankful for and much to pray for. We will soon begin preparing supplies for our retreat there."

Chana saw the maidservants, each in separate corners of the room, share knowing looks at Elqanah's words. Both were well aware of the yearly quarreling that occurred in Shiloh. The children loved being away from home for a time, but for everyone else, their trips to the place of worship seemed to be an irrefutable source of tension.

Each time Peninnah would provoke Chana even more harshly than she usually did. Though Chana had the choice to refuse to go, she never allowed herself lest she miss another opportunity to be in the presence of Yahweh. Unfortunately, Peninnah never granted Chana the peace of spending a holy retreat alone if it also meant being alone with Elqanah. It sickened her that Peninnah used their most sacred times of year as another opportunity to compete with her.

"It is important to remain steadfast in these times of turmoil." Yeroham spoke, silencing the whispers of the children. "It seems that the people of Israel have turned away from their Deliverer. So many have fallen away from obeying the Law and turned to worshiping other gods."

Yeroham grimaced. He seemed troubled by his words, but spoke again with a powerfully triumphant resolve. "We must remain faithful to The Most High, He who bestows blessings and restores. He who tramples on the head of our enemies, _Yahweh Saboath_."

Yeroham's words moved Chana. They ignited the flame that burned for the presence of Yahweh . _For The Most High_, she thought. _For El Shaddai, God Almighthy_. That was why she braved Peninnah's words when she made the pilgrimage to Shiloh. Ever since she was little, and her Ima and Abba shared the stories of Yahweh's power and love, she'd believed with all her might. Not even her moments of doubt had changed her belief in the Most High's unfailing strength.

Without a bit of uncertainty, Chana said, "I would like to go again."

A grin spread across Elqanah's face. "If it pleases you."

"I will go again as well," said Peninnah, before Elqanah or anyone else could speak. Her round brown eyes appeared eagerly expectant of praise.

"I am glad, my pearl," Elqanah said, placating her. "I would like to have all my family there."

His daughters and sons all rejoiced around the table; especially Eltnathan. His son smiled from ear-to-ear. Chana's heart was warmed by the sight. Secretly, she yearned for her own son to teach of The Most High's love. She envisioned him being like Elnathan, who loved Yahweh with all his heart and all his being.

"I must thank the Most High for my wonderful sons," Penninah remarked, shocking Chana with how much her thoughts were like her own. "I pray that He will bless me with another son." Peninnah looked from Elqanah to Chana. "Perhaps Chana, too, will be blessed with a son."

"Perhaps." Yeroham answered, unaware of the tension that emanated from Chana beside him.

Despite Peninnah's boldface effort to spite her in front of her in-laws and children, Chana kept her poise. "I pray that it is in The Most High's will."

"Perhaps," Peninnah calmly repeated. "You have tried everything possible—herbs, ointments, mandrakes."

"Enough." Elqanah's voice rose sharply. "Enough of your talk, Peninnah."

Chana longed to flee from the table but felt that she would be unmannerly in leaving without having stayed for grace. It made her anguish so much worse when Peninnah brought up her childlessness in front of her mother and father-in-law. It only added to the guilt of having no grandsons to share with them. Sadly, running off to be alone was all she thought of as Elqanah blessed the meal they'd finished. After he concluded his words of thanks, Chana immediately rose from the table and headed to the courtyard.

"Mistress," she heard as she left the living area. It was Nechamah. "Do not let that scurrilous woman trouble your heart," she whispered. "The Most High, in time, will open your womb."

Her maidservant's soft expression offered comfort but did not soothe the jilting pain and guilt that still lingered inside Chana.

By the time she reached the courtyard she was already in tears. All she thought of was her husband and the sons she had not bore for him. She wondered how Elqanah still kept her around.

Tears continued to stream down her face as she sat at the bench where little Emuwnah sat earlier. _Emuwnah. Penninah's child. _Everywhere she looked there were reminders of Peninnah's blessing and her own affliction.

"Yahweh Saboath," she quietly sniffed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Where are you, Lord?"

"Chana?" She heard her husband's thick voice but did not yet see him. She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes when he called her name again and appeared in the courtyard. He examined her a moment. "Why do you sit here alone?"

Chana hesitated, careful in choosing her words. She felt like a burden to her husband. How could she repeat words that had already been said? Often she preferred to keep her pain hidden for that very reason. This time, unfortunately, she had no choice.

"I am still without a child after all these years." Her tears temporarily blinded her from the sight of him. "My womb has been closed. I am useless to you."

As Chana sat sobbing, she heard silence followed by her husband's gentle footsteps towards her. He sat beside her at the stone bench. "Chana." There was irritation in his voice in just the way he spoke her name. This was a issue he'd grown weary of.

Elqanah lifted her chin so that she would look at him through her tearful eyes. "There is no reason for you to think or say such things." He pushed a curly wisp of hair from her face. "You are useful to me."

Chana breathed out a sigh, still sniffling though the tears had subsided.

"I do not simply think of you as only someone to give me children." Elqanah continued, his voice softening. "You are my beloved and also my friend. I can confide in you."

His tender words were kind, but they did not fully console her. She wanted a son too badly. Watching he and Elnathan earlier that night had only made the yearning worse

Chana held her husband while continuing to cry.

His sheltering embrace couldn't provide her solace for the deep heartache she felt then. She pulled away from him still sniffling. He seemed to not notice the wetness around her eyes. "When I return from tonight's gathering we will pray together."

Chana nodded, but her mind was not on prayer. She was still plagued by desire, want, shame, and guilt.

Shiloh seemed like the one thing to look forward to, but even that had the potential to be just as painful as any ordinary day.


	3. Chapter 3

One thing Chana did appreciate about preparing for the journey to Shiloh was the unvarying flow of added work. The task of assisting and supervising her maidservants helped keep her mind off things and kept Peninnah out of her sight.

Elqanah's second wife tended to prefer doing what little work she did indoors with the children; she worried about tanning in the sun and she didn't want the village women to gossip about her.

Chana, however, didn't mind the heat or her darkened skin from working on the roof most of the day. She also didn't have to worry about showing her face among the women in the village. They pitied her and whispered about her, keeping their distance whenever she was at the trading place with her servants. She avoided leaving their household due to their treatment. The way these women behaved as though Chana was cursed or diseased made her feel even worse about her condition. They were no more understanding than Peninnah.

"Mistress." Lehahabah knelt on a reed mat preparing sweetened grain cakes in the most spacious room of their house. "It is the middle of the day," she informed. "Now would be a perfect time for you to rest."

It was the first time Chana had been inside all day. Right as she arrived, Penninnah retreated to the courtyard.

"No, I think I'll continue to work," said Chana, adding honey to the dough that they would pack into cakes. "At least until Elqanah and his sons return."

Elnathan, Melek, and their father were working in the fields. There was no arranged time for when they would finish, but Chana inwardly hoped it would be the evening. She did not wish for a break or a nap. Her desire was to continually work until the day wore off.

"That sounds like them now," Nechamah said. She got up and peered through the lattice of the square window and confirmed the arrival of Elqanah and his sons.

Moments later, they all arrived at their lodge dressed in lightweight tunics, their tawny skin and dark hair silken with perspiration. Before inching deeper to where Chana and her maidservants worked, they took off their sandals.

Elqanah stood near Chana. "Preparing sweets for our travel?" he asked.

"With Elnathan and Melek on our journey, these grain cakes will not be wasted."

"Especially Elnathan." Lehabanh giggled as she shaped the dough into a rounded cake beside Nechamah.

Chana saw Elnathan give Lehabah a playful smirk. His father laughed. "My two eldests sons eat like hungry lions while Gamliy'el hardly eats at all."

It was true. The difference between his sons was unmistakable. The youngest, Gamliy'el, was narrow and small, while Elnathan, a handsome, beardless version of his father, was taller, wider, and almost as strong as Elqanah, even for his young age. Melek, his middle son, had facial features more like his mother, with the same round light brown eyes and slender nose. His stature, however, was carved out just like Elnathan and his father, thanks to their consistent regimen of work.

Elqanah still required his sons to labor even though they had the help of servants. This made Chana glad. Elqanah assured that his sons weren't treated so luxuriously that they could not manage a household properly. Despite Penninah's objections to their toil, they still obeyed their father's wishes to aid him in the fields and with livestock.

"And you didn't fall alseep?" Nechamah incredulously asked, after Elqanah shared with her and Lehabah his meeting with the elders.

"They were fascinating," Elnathan explained, his dark eyes childlike and glittering with wonder. "They told of triumph out of war and affliction." They were the elders like Yeroham who still revered the name of Yahweh.

Chana rose from the mat to stand in front of her husband." Your son is just like you," she whispered, still watching Elnathan spiritedly convey the words he'd heard. "He delights in the stories of the elders."

Elqanah looked proudly at his son. His lips tugged into a grin and his face lit up adoringly as Elnathan told her maidservants the stories the men shared of how Yahweh delivered their ancestors. Each experience was different as they spoke of Moshe, Aharon, and Yehoshua, names her servants were familiar with, but still reveled in hearing stories about.

Elnathan stopped talking and the maidservants, enraptured by his words, bombarded him with questions. As they did, Elqanah grabbed Chana's hand and turned his attention to her.

"I have something for you," he said.

His eyes did not convey anything about what it could have been, leaving Chana naturally curious. "Meet me on the roof," Elqanah softly spoke.

Despite becoming accustomed to her husband stealing her away from her chores, she couldn't help looking on her work longingly. Though she enjoyed being with her husband, there seemed to be more lingering comfort in constantly being consumed by housework.

Before climbing the stone stairs to the roof, Chana grabbed the tunic she finished for Elqanah from the trunk in her chamber. Outside it was sticky, the sun scorched the clay roof. Thankfully, there was a booth shaded with leaves constructed to protect them from the heat. Underneath it were two cushioned chairs. Chana sat down at one as she waited for Elqanah and stared at the cloudless sky. Licks of breeze traversed her skin as her gaze wandered to the breathtaking green hills in the distance. Somewhere beyond them was Shiloh.

"Beloved."

Chana turned to see Elqanah walking towards the booth. She stood clutching the garment she made for him in both her hands.

"This is for you." She stood and presented Elqanah with the linen tunic dyed an indigo hue. His surprise was clear in his open-mouth smile and shining brown eyes. "Thank you," Elqanah said, as deeply appreciative as the first time she made him a tunic. It comforted her to know that he still valued such a little gift when she could not give him the greatest gift of all.

He swung the tunic into the crook of his arm and pulled out the fold of soft leather secured by his girdle. Chana watched as he unfolded the fabric. She gasped when she saw a necklace made of precious purple stones. Even beneath the shade it still somehow sparkled.

"And this is for you," he said, cupping the fabric and the necklace in his hands.

Chana shook her head. "I cannot." How could she? She was not worth it. Peninnah, even in her iniquity, was more deserving. She was the mother of his heirs, worthy of gold and gems.

"I thought you might say that." He huskily laughed. His hands were still held out offering her the necklace. "Take it," he urged.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the necklace. The gold between each stone was lovely. The stones themselves were luxuriant, reminding her of the colors in the tabernacle and the robes of kings and queens. Royalty she was not, so why wear the colors of a royal?

"No one outside of our household will even see it." Disquieted, her eyes strayed from the necklace towards the ground. Such a beautiful ornament made her painfully aware of her unworthiness.

Elqanah's voice was earnest. "_You_ will see it," he said. "You'll see it and think of me."

Peninnah also would see it. She would be furious once she discovered it was from her Elqanah—one of the reasons why she could not delight in gifts from her husband.

Her eyes didn't leave the ground as quietly she said, "I am undeserving."

"With all that you have endured, you are most deserving."

She looked back up at him as he tucked away the necklace. Just then, his words sunk in, their meaning more apparent now. "You pity me." She was unable again to neither lift her voice above a whisper nor look him in the eye.

"How can I pity you?" Elqanah said, raising her face with both hands. He came closer to her, his nose wrinkled in disbelief. "I admire you, my wife. You have remained steadfast in your faith, never wavering."

If only he knew her inner anguish and was aware of just how much Peninnah's barbed insults affected her. Faithfully staying in prayer was all that kept her hopeful.

"My sons and daughters have learned so much from your stories of the Most High." He continued cradling her face gently in his hands, forcing her eyes to stay on him. There was devotion in the glowing orbs and in his words; she doubted now whether she deserved that too.

"Please, accept it." He sat down his tunic in the chair and pulled out the leather fold once more, displaying it for Chana.

Breathing out deeply, she reached out for the necklace, examining its beauty up close now. She had not worn anything so elaborate since their wedding, but she could not refuse to wear this.

"It is beautiful," she whispered, mesmerized once more by the oval-shaped stones and round pendent. She'd been wearing the same gold bangles and anklets since she'd married him. Though Chana had fine linen and lovely robes, nothing truly matched the richness of the necklace.

Grasping it tightly, she reached up and embraced Elqanah, truly grateful despite how refined the gift was.

When he pulled away, he pressed his soft lips to her forehead and picked up her free hand. With his eyes on hers, he put her it against his face. "Your fingers smell of honey."

Chana found herself smiling. She touched the soft thickness of his beard, giggling when he kissed her fingetips. "You will wear it?" he asked, a smile lit his face.

"I will."He smirked, and with a nod, disappeared inside the house.

"So beautiful." Chana ran her hands over the necklace. Once again, she felt spoiled and unworthy.

Not far off, she heard the familiar jingle of anklet jewelry. _Peninnah_, she thought. She folded back the cloth as Elqanah's second wife strolled noisily onto the roof. Her tunic and robe of fine linen were both scarlet. Up and down her arms were bangles and gold anklets on each ankle. Her linen headdress was secured by a winding chain of gold coins.

It wasn't unlike Peninnah to dress this way just for an appearance in the village. She would love to have a necklace like Chana's; it was she who desired to flaunt Elqanah's wealth.

"For once, not working," she muttered. She didn't even bother to glance in her direction as she sauntered over to walled edge besides Chana. The breeze carried the smell of the scented oils she was wearing.

"I decided to take a break," Chana confessed. She still held the leather fabric tightly in her hands. Against her palm she felt the molded shape and weight of the stones. She wished she could have been more delicate with, but she didn't want to draw Peninnah's attention.

She moved swiftly towards the opposite edge of the roof, heading for the stone stairs that led to the courtyard. Before she could get there, in a few quick steps Peninnah was in front of her. "What's that you hold so carefully in your hand?" Her eyes mocked Chana. "More remedies?" She raised an eyebrow. "What fruitless method will you try now?"

Chana attempted to wind her way pass Peninnah, but her rival obstructed her path once more. Though Peninnah sought a vehement reaction, Chana didn't give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her seethe. Instead she just stood frozen, thinking that Penninah would perhaps go away if she ignored her long enough. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it failed.

"What is it?" Peninnah asked, still clearly waiting on a confrontation to ensue. "What is it?" She asked again, this time louder than before. Reaching out, she grasped hold of the leather. Chana drew back and attempted to snatch it away, but with Peninnah's firm grasp on it, she worried that pulling any harder might damage it or send it flying out of her hands. She had no choice but to let go.

Peninnah held it a moment with a satisfied smile on her face before opening the flaps of folded fabric. "Where did you get this?" She asked. Her eyes widened at the sight of the precious stones.

"Please," Chana calmly spoke, her anger subsiding as she fixed her eyes on the necklace Peninnah stood gaping at. "Please just give it to me."

"You? Fine jewelry?" Peninnah whispered, dismissing Chana's request. Her eyes continued appraising the lovely purple stones. "Where did you buy this? Which of the servant girls bought this for you?" She looked at Chana with honey brown eyes that viciously demanded an answered.

"I did not buy it. And no one bought it for me." Chana watched Peninnah hoping she didn't spitefully discard it.

"You did not buy it," Peninnah mumbled. "Of course you didn't." She smiled smugly and examined it once more. "But then if you didn't—"

Her lips formed a tight line and she glared coldly at Chana before, at last, speaking." Elqanah gave this to you?" Her own words dawning on her showed in the scowl she wore. "You who have bore him no children at all?" She gritted her teeth. "This should be mine." She clutched it tighter, and Chana grew fearful of what she would do next.

"Please, Peninnah." She held out her hand. "Please just give me my necklace back."

"Why should I?" There was anger in her words, the mocking, honey tone gone. "You do not deserve this!" she growled, swinging the necklace in her hand. She walked backward closer to the edge, and dangled it.

"Don't Peninnah," Chana quietly pleaded. "Please don't."

For a brief moment, Chana saw a change in Peninnah's eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, perhaps sadness. She threw the necklace down at her feet and stormed off, retreating back inside the house.

Chana suddenly felt sympathy for her rival. This was the first time in the seventeen year span of Peninnah's marriage to Elqanah that she'd seen her look this way. Elqanah's kindness towards Chana clearly hurt Peninnah deeply. She could only pray that Peninnah's hurt was not as deep as her own, and that Yahweh would provide her comfort.

_Our circumstances bring grief for us all_, she thought as she reached to pick up and dust off her necklace. It was still intact despite the force in which Peninnah threw it to the ground.

Chana carefully folded it back in the leather, suddenly feeling guilt instead of happiness. For her husband it was a display of his love, but what did she really gain from it? Things would still be the same no matter how much gold, ivory, or fine linen her husband gave her. She still did not have her most-longed-for possession—a child, a son like Elnathan, to love and shape into a man of dignity, honor, and faith; a son that would possibly remove the disgust from the eyes of the villagers and finally end Peninnah's humiliating taunting.

She breathed out a sigh and gazed out at the hills once more. The name Shiloh seemed as though it were a whisper in the sultry air. Their household's two-day journey there was nearing; they were nearly through with preparing the livestock and food. Chana wondered thoughtfully if this year would be different.

When doubt about their trip began to set in, she fell to her knees right there on the roof and started to pray.

"Adonai. . ."


	4. Chapter 4

Chana didn't sleep the night before their pilgrimage to Shiloh. Her mind was too full, too ripe with anticipation and dread all at once.

Watching Peninnah as she made sure their hirelings properly secured her belongings to her donkey only worsened the dread. It was the same familiar routine. The entire household would rise before dawn on the day of their journey. By lamplight there would be prayer and preparation of the livestock. They'd bring out the fattened bullock that would be offered as a sacrifice. Then they checked up on the flocks being cared for by their hireling named Tilon, a man who dutifully shepherded their sheep and was fond of Nechamah. Then there would be the preparation of their mule and six donkeys to heap their burdens upon.

After these tasks were finished, all Chana could do was sit and sigh. Now they were ready to begin their journey. Yeroham and Elqanah, who was flanked by his eldest sons, traveled for now by foot. All of the women except Lehabah rode either a donkey or mule. Giylah and Emuwnah already were slumped asleep and Peninnah quietly swayed with the trotting donkey in front of Chana. Melek, the only child awake, playfully flitted around his grandfather and Elqanah.

"I wish we were already there." Lehabah's voice giddily rose above a whisper as she and Elnathan walked alongside one another. Besides there hushed conversation, Melek's tinking laughter was all that could be heard in the lull of early morning. That was until they came across first of the villagers who wanted to join their caravan to the holy city. Upon passing there small lodge, a man timidly called out to Elqanah.

"I know that you and Yeroham go faithfully to the tabernacle," said Yaasuw, a man Chana vaguely remembered seeing in the village before. He was a young father with two little sons and a wife with smooth, dark-brown skin and deep ebony eyes shaped like almonds. She wore a headdress and goatskin tunic with leather sandals. Beside her, her husband wore a turban upon his head and similar tunic. He spoke again, "This is my wife Arjana and our sons, Nadir and Tamid. We'd like to join you on your journey."

Yeroham hospitably welcomed the young father. "Yaasuw, you're most welcome join us," he said. A smile curved on his white-haired face. "All who wish to worship are welcome."

The man helped his wife and little sons onto the yoked donkey with their loads while Elqanah walked over to Yaasuw. Though they spoke in a low voice, Chana could still faintly decipher their words from her idled donkey. "Please be warned, I have seen with my own eyes the corruption of the priests in the holy city. They have. . ." Elqanah's voice trailed off, replaced by the sound of Peninnah calling Elnathan.

"Go and lead the bullock." She pointed to the powerful bull Elqanah had steered, and her son reluctantly did as he was told.

Peninnah's eyes then pierced through Lehabah like a dagger. "Perhaps you should pull the bullock and make us dung cakes for fuel along the way."

Lehabah's face was red with anger as she hissed at Peninnah. The threat of a quarrel was obvious.

"Lehabah," Chana called. "Come with me and join Batyah in greeting Arjana."

Peninnah's eyes followed Lahabah as she walked from her own donkey to where Arjana sat on hers. Batyah was already talking to the young woman. "Ah, this is my daughter, Chana," her mother-in-law courteously said, tugging Chana closer to the donkey on which Arjana protectively held her sons.

"Shalom," Chana said. Her eyes timidly met the woman's gaze.

"Shalom," Arjana softly said.

Chana felt relieved; this woman didn't gawk at her before speaking like the other women in the village often did.

"This is our maidservant, Lehabah."

"Lehabah," Arjana whispered, giggling after she did. Like everyone that encountered her maidservant, she was probably amused by her unusual name. The name's meaning—flame—fit her perfectly.

Lehaban stepped out and greeted the woman while Chana smiled at the two little boys who had yet to say a word.

"Your little ones are not as noisy as ours." They still didn't speak as they watched Chana smile at them.

"They're very quiet, like their father," Ajana answered, stroking the tight curls on the head of the eldest boy.

After Yeroham announced that they would be continuing in their journey, Chana returned to her donkey and was helped back on the saddle. Lehabah fell in line beside Melek, who was kicking up dirt on the barren patch of land. As Elnathan lead the bullock back into the sloping hills of Ramah, he stole longing glances back at her.

Along the way they continued to meet villagers who wanted to join them. Some were only prepared with their offering and nothing more. "We have plenty of wineskins, cereal, and dried figs," Elqanah said, though Peninnah persistently gnashed her teeth at the very idea of sharing. "Please, come and join us," he'd offered. So the man and his wife did.

Chana marveled as more villagers continued to fall in. In all, more than five households including their own now set out in reaching the holy city. Usually only the men of the household sought to join them, but this time each house had brought his entire family—wives and children.

Chana was glad their family led the way. This prevented her from wondering if the women whispered about her. She hoped those thoughts would leave her mind if she even dared to consider them.

Thankfully, the Most High provided a distraction for Chana. Just then, the sun gloriously rising in the valley in shades of gold with soft flicks of scarlet left her in awe. The cereal field and shallow stream appeared drenched in the morning's lovely colors. She could hear the children that accompanied them utter in wonder how beautiful the flame-brushed sky was.

Marvels such as these were all along the way to Bethel, the place where they would camp for the night. As they rode through Mizpah, they saw valleys, sparkling streams, and hills covered in white and violet wildflowers. At times the dipping land presented a task for moving through its rugged terrain, yet no one loss their footing. "Flat land is what is uncomfortable for us Zuphites," Yeroham had jested.

After a while, some of the children who were on donkeys traveled with the other children on foot. Melek found a boy around his same age to match his vigor. Quiet Emuwnah had discovered a girl just a little older than her who could play a wooden flute. Elqanah's daughter was completely enchanted by the girl's playing, and shocked Chana when she began to hum a tune. Chana was even more surprised when Emuwnah began to sing. She would've jumped down from her donkey if she could find Elqanah to tell him of his daughter's hidden gift. He always sought ways to bring his youngest daughter out of her shyness. Chana never suspected it would be through song. She made a point to remind herself to tell him at once.

Waves of conversation continued the entire way to Bethel. It was only when they arrived at the edge of the city that everyone started to look exhausted. With dwindling strength, the men had begun immediately constructing the large goat skin tents.

The sun was setting in the sky, casting a dark shadow over the mountainous region in which they camped. While it continued to grow dark, the men made a great fire and kindled it with wood they'd gathered along the way there. While they did this, the village women rationed their food among their families. Out of all of them, Chana's family was the only one with goat meat and the servants to cook it.

This was partly why, although it wasn't necessary for Chana to join Lehabah and Nechamah as they prepared their meal, she decided to anyhow. With a brief prayer to settle her nerves, she strode towards them.

"Shalom." She adjusted her linen headdress and crouched beside the women at the fire.

"Shalom," they responded all at once. As Chana looked around at the glowing faces in the fire, she realized she didn't recognize these women; it had been so long since she was last in the village. New families lived in Ramah now.

"My name is Chana," she spoke, hesitantly pushing the words past her lips.

"We know," one of them said with a laugh. The woman beside her glanced at Chana, chiding the one beside her, though barely able to contain her own laughter.

Lehabah and Nechamah both cast looks at her and then at Chana. Deep lines formed on their brows. "Have you met Peninnah?" Chana asked. She'd ignored the reactions of everyone around her, simply wanting them to know she was human, not some cursed being.

The red-blazed fire crackled. There was silence. Then someone spoke.

"I've met Peninnah." It was the woman who'd introduced herself as Lior. "She bought flax from my mother-in-law," she said.

Arjana appeared at the circle and sat beside Chana with little grain cakes in her hand. All of the women stared at her as she kneeled beside Chana and smiled.

"Your robe is very beautiful," Arjana said.

Chana smoothed her hands over the soft fabric of her dark blue robe sheepishly. "Thank you."

She was now simply staring at her hands in her lap, able to feel the group's eyes boring through her. "Can we speak alone?" Arjana leaned in and whispered. She looked at her new acquaintance surprised before answering yes.

They left the group and Arjana offered Chana one of the grain cakes she brought with her. "Thank you," Chana said, taking a piece of the cake as they walked along.

Nearby, the men shouted out instructions on what to do next in constructing their goatskin dwellings. They were nearly finished. Chana's family would all be sharing the same tent, since two of the families had to share their second tent. It usually wasn't necessary, but it did provide more space.

"I knew of you before we met," Arjana confessed to Chana, as they neared a low-branched tree not far from the sets of tents.

"It seems many know of me."

Arjana looked at Chana. Her almond-shaped eyes didn't hold the same amusement as the others. "When I heard your story, I felt a need to reach out to you." She stood in front of tree looking out into the blanket of sparkling stars in the sky. "You see, I was also without child for many years."

Chana's eyes widened. She was quiet as the woman spoke again. "I came to Ramah as a foreigner. Because of my barrenness, I was doubly despised by the villagers." She bowed her head as though remembering was painful. "Yaasuw and I share a strong faith in the Most High. We did not give up in our prayer." She met Chana's gaze again. "Prayer kept me strong through the agony of doubt and gossip that surrounded me. In my despair, The Most High remembered me and gave me Tamid and Nadir. But as you can see, the village women still talk."

Chana just stared at Arjana, surprised but thankful for the outpouring of this woman's heart.

"I pray that you will be strong and continue trusting in The Most High." Arjana said. Hesitantly she stepped forward and placed a hand on Chana's shoulder. "Soon your sacrifice of thanksgiving will be for a child, as it is for me."

Chana thanked her over and over again. "You have shown me more kindness today than my husband's second wife has shown me since I've known her." Her laughter only partly disguised the truth in her words. For a moment she pondered how she should repay Arjana's kindness. Money? Jewelry?

She glanced back at her newly-constructed tent. "I will have my handmaidens bring you portions of our kid meat for you and your family."

Lehabah and Nechamah did just that. After they had finished preparing the goat meat, they brought some to Yaasuw's family.

Everyone ate until they were full. Elqanah and Yerhoham left to join the other men around the fire that still burned. The servants, the children, and Penninah and Batyah slept in the tent in rooms separated by linen dividers. Spread on the ground were large padded mats to act as bedding.

While they rested, Chana went out to feed the donkeys grain. She took with her a piece of linen cloth filled with cereal and walked out to where the tired beasts of burden were tied to their posts. She patted her donkey Ira and offered him the food, hearing the rise of voices beside the fire as he chewed on the grain. Once he was done, she lingered near the tent. Just barely she could hear the voice of her husband.

"Some in Israel wonder if we will continue to be kingless." Elqanah's jaw clenched tensely between the words he spoke. "They do not know that The Most High is and always will be our king. No man is mightier than the Lord. Far too many in Israel believe in the power of men."

Most of the men nodded in agreement, except for one man who just stared wide-eyed in disbelief at Elqanah's words. He sat this way the entire time her husband spoke. Only after Elqanah was done talking did she observe him feign belief.

Chana tried to be calm, but when she went back inside the tent, she couldn't help wondering if things would only worsen for the people of Israel. The priests at Shiloh were merely a reflection of all of society; so many men did what was right in their own eyes.

Chana removed her headdress, afterwards thanking Yahweh for Elqanah and his father. Even with wealth and authority, her husband wasn't corrupt. She'd only ever seen him treat other men in the village with kindness, hoping to restore or encourage their faith in The Most High. His only ill decision had been marrying Peninnah. Despair slowly crept over her as she thought of how the next few days with his second wife would play out. She touched her stomach and wondered when she would rejoice again. An empty womb had taken so much joy from her.

Chana attempted to sleep as she lay on her mat that night, but couldn't. She heard everything—the night raven in the distance, the buzz of a gadfly whizzing at the peaks of the black goatskin tent; and then there was the incessant sound of what she feared was some kind of wild beast. Of course, with her sleeplessness it was possible she was hearing things, but that thought, along with the ones already whirling around in her head, kept her awake. She heard her husband finally striding into the tent and shut her eyes tightly, pretending to be sleep. Sometimes he looked into the women and servant's quarters to make sure everyone was safe. Elqanah couldn't see her fretting like this.

As she laid feigning slumber she could hear him slipping off his sandals. With a heavy, weary sigh, he headed to the side of tent where his sons now soundly slept. She could see his shadow behind the curtain partitioning the separate parts of the tent. With her eyelids slightly closed, she watched him step through the divider of fabric. He took one look in her direction and walked away, satisfied by her act apparently.

Once he was gone, her eyes fluttered back open. Despite her attempts, she could do nothing but stare into the darkness absorbed in her thoughts. When beneath half-closed eyelids she saw a dark, formless shape moving through the tent, she immediately thought her sleeplessness was causing her to see things. Startled, she sat up wide-eyed from her mat and looked across the room to see Lehabah missing from her spot next to Nechamah. Suspicion sunk in. _Surely Lehabah wouldn't run away,_ she thought.

When she heard the sound of familiar voices close to the tent, she immediately knew this wasn't the case. Her maidservant was simply attempting in vain to be deceptive.

Once Chana carefully made her way outside the tent and saw Elqanah's eldest son standing beside the livestock, she was certain the two of them had arranged this meeting.

She wanted to scold them for putting themselves in danger, but couldn't bring herself to do so. Elanathan would never take advantage of her, and if danger struck he would be sure to protect Lehabah. Chana had no reason to worry.

She was getting ready to slip back in the tent when she overheard Lehabah questioning whether Peninnah would ever approve of their betrothal!

Chana's mouth instinctively popped open. Were they actually considering marriage now? Peninnah would surely fly into a tantrum if she were to discover they were.

Elnathan's gentle way of reassuring Lehabah that his mother would come around—the persistence in his words, each one thickly laden with devotion—reminded her so much of his father. She was surprised at how much they already seemed betrothed. "I wish it were right away," she spoke into his robe. "I'm just a little a scared."

Elnathan stepped away and looked at her. "Of my mother?" He seemed amused instead of concerned, playfully flicking one of the long plaits in her hair. "Where is your fire, little flame?"

"I'm afraid I may grow angry and strike at her. I pray every day to tame my tongue."

_I'll pray for you too_, Chana thought. If they were to be married, she would face more derision from Peninnah than she already did.

"Please, don't worry," Elnathan assured. He reached and touched her arm as Chana felt a touch on her own arm. She jumped and spun around to see her husband.

"What are you doing out here?"

Without answering, Chana nodded to the opposite end of the tent where Lehabah and his eldest son now spoke so quietly they could barely be heard.

"Are you upset?" Chana asked. She waited, and Elqanah didn't respond.

"You knew they would meet like this? Without anyone present?"

He pulled her closer to the entrance of the tent and she detected a smile on his face again. She was glad to see him smile after how disquieted he'd seemed earlier. "I know what they're discussing."

Chana saw the calm features on his face. There was an air of knowingness on his countenance.

Her eyes widened. "You knew that he was planned to ask that they marry?"

Elqanah nodded.

"He told you he would speak to her." Chana said, catching on. She eyed her husband with furrowed brows. Had he urged this secret meeting?

"I didn't know it would happen in this way, nor at this time," he admitted, as if he'd heard her unspoken question. "She will make a good wife for him."

Chana inwardly agreed, now believing it more today than she ever had.

"What a mischievous pair they will make," she remarked.

She walked inside the tent and he followed, speaking as to not wake his resting sons nearby. "Like us." The pale moonlight moved over the smile on his face.

Chana softly chuckled as she remembered their own such secret meeting during their betrothal. How Elnathan was so much like his father.

At the sound of shuffling footsteps outside, they quietly returned to their mats. Through half-closed eyelids, Chana watched Lehabah lay back on her mat. She looked peaceful, pleased. Chana prayed for her own _shalom_ as she thought of her husband. Once more, she envisioned in herself in her youth. She thought of their childlike mischief.

With Peninnah in Shiloh slowly fading from her thoughts, sleep slowly took hold. Her eyelids went from tiny slits to completely close. Peace, finally. For now.


	5. Chapter 5

The child Chana rocked in her arms resembled Elqanah.

The shiny tuft of curly hair. The rounded tip of his nose. His mouth. Even his toothless smile. Like his son Elnathan, this child looked like her husband in nearly every way—except for the child's eyes.

His eyes were like his mother's. Chana stroked his skin and they glowed bronze-like now in the lamplight, brightening as he giddily bobbed in her lap. When he stuck out his tongue, Chana couldn't contain her laughter.

"My son," Chana whispered.

The words flowed sweetly from her lips and filled her with the deepest peace. "_Barach Hashem,_" she spoke over the child. "You are faithful, Lord." She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and breathed in the child's fragrant skin. It held the faintest scent of lilies, fresh and lovely. He was altogether soft and wondrous.

While her senses absorbed this fascinating creature she heard the familiar and irritating jangle of anklet jewelry. "Give me my son back!"

She opened her eyes to see Peninnah. Anger flushed her face as she spoke the words again through gritted teeth. "Give me my son back!"

Chana pressed the swaddled baby protectively against her bosom. "No."

Peninnah now reached for the child. Her fingers raked across her skin. When that didn't work, she beat Chana with a half-closed fist. "Give him to me!"

"No!" The words came out as a loud shriek from her parched throat.

Her husband and her maidservant came rushing to her side as his daughters watched from their mats with frightened gazes.

Chana sat up, slowly coming to her senses. Her husband took her hand. His eyes searched her face. "What's wrong?"

She looked down at her empty lap as if the child with its warmth and softness would reappear again. "I had a dream." The words escaped Chana's arid throat as she closed her eyes and relived the terrifying moment when Peninnah wrestled for her child. _My own dreams taunt me_, she thought. A_nd even in my dreams I cannot escape Peninnah._

Assessing Chana's countenance, Elqanah whispered something to her maidservant and she went to go tend to his confounded little girls. They both left the tent with Nechamah as her husband lowered himself down beside Chana.

"Lehabah said you said things in your sleep," he breathed. "You said _Barach Hashem_."

Almost overcome by the thought of why, Chana simply leaned her head again her husband's shoulder. The dream felt so real. Even Penninah's hatred felt real. While Chana sat pushing the vision of his second wife's hostility out of her mind, Penninah passed through the divider. Her eyes scrutinized Chana and Elqanah sitting together and her chin tightened into a scowl. Just as quickly, her jaw slackened to a completely blank expression. There was only the slightest hint of concern in her voice when she finally asked "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Chana responded, sitting up straight now and taking a deep, calming breath.

At her words, Elqanah lifted himself from the ground. His robe fell to ankles as he did. "Batyah is outside. She agreed to oversee the servants,"

Chana had wondered why the servants were stirring about without her. She always helped with repacking for the journey onwards. Not doing so made her feel left out.

"My mother didn't want to wake the girls nor you and Peninnah, who awoke just before you did."

Chana rose from her mat. "I'll see if the other women need help."

"They're all outside waiting with their husbands and children," Elqanah said.

Chana instantly pictured them scoffing at her privilege—slumbering while they prepared for the journey ahead. These women, these new women of Ramah, already didn't like her. Chana wondered if they now loathed her.

"Yaasuw has suggested stopping twice more along the way to Shen," Elqanah revealed. "We're going to discuss it and decide what's best."

That would mean three stops instead of just two in Shen and Ophrah between traveling. It would extend their journey but Chana trusted her husband's reasoning. After informing her he would be back to finish packing their loads from the tent, Elqanah left.

As soon as he was gone, the tension between Peninnah and Chana returned.

"You'd do anything for attention," Peninnah irately began. "Screaming in your sleep, eagerly awaiting Elqanah's pity."

Chana didn't respond. She simply concentrated on collecting her belongings. Peninnah's usual vindictiveness would get even worse than this when they arrived in Shiloh. It was best she prepare herself.

"He feels pity for you." Peninnah spat, her voice raising. "He only treats you as he does because you will never have a child. You deserve to be thrown out for your uselessness."

With shaking hands, Chana put on her headdress without a word.

Listening to Peninnah's insults was like dodging the stones of an accuser, some missed, but some also struck. Those were the ones that hurt the most. It was only with the Most High's strength that she was able to walk away altogether. More and more she saw that it had _always _been His strength and never her own.

She took a deep breath once she was outside, slowly feeling her tenseness ease. The air had felt stifled in the tent and the cool approach of morning was just what she needed.

Outside the men and women were gathered together. Their families had finished with packing loads, and the children were already chasing after each other nearby. They found sticks and were pretended they were swords and scepters. Emuwnah was the only child not at play. She simply watched with a muted smile as she sat with her basket in the grass nearby.

With no task at hand, Chana wondered now whether she should try and befriend the village women again. She couldn't control whether they mocked her; she could only be gracious and kind towards them. It was what her mother had ingrained in her and what she knew was right in the Lord's eyes. Still, just approaching them sent a faint quiver through her limbs.

Arjana immediately approached her. "Chana," she said. A pleasant smile spread across her heart-shaped face. "We've just returned from filling our skins with well water. How are you this morning?"

"I'm well." Chana managed to smile despite feeling dishonest.

"Our husbands are preparing to take down the tents," said Arjana. "Come, let's walk together."

Chana decided she didn't mind having the distraction and agreed. They passed the children playing and the other wives watching them and strode toward a large low-branched tree. The sun was now breaking through the clouds in the hilly distance, casting a lovely blush wine hue on their surroundings.

"It's quite beautiful isn't it?" Arjana remarked. "Peaceful." She folded her arms and watched contently as Chana admired the colorful rays of sunlight herself. Remarkably, Chana and her new acquaintance shared a fascination with The Most High's creation. They both stood in awe-stricken silence looking out at the breath-taking start of morning until at last Arjana spoke.

"I wonder." She looked over at Chana. "How it must be to have another wife around." Her voice had been small and her words measured. It was as though she was worried that what she said would upset or offend Chana.

In truth, Chana had never spoken to anyone about it. She'd never expressed the agony, the doubt. But there was something about Arjana, perhaps her similar circumstances, which made her share her story.

"It is a test ever day," Chana confessed, bowing her head. Shame had blanketed her when she said the words aloud. She wondered how it was possible to feel more shame when already she couldn't escape the disgrace of her barrenness.

"Elqanah always said we would wait on The Most High to give us a child."

Chana remembered all too well Peninnah's arrival. The grief she'd felt that day began rising from the pit of her stomach. "But then he returned from his journey with Peninnah."

"Is she not from Ramah?" Arjana asked.

"She is from Ramah, though she has not lived there since birth."

Chana only knew Penninah's origins through Batyah. After Peninnah and Elqanah were wed, her mother-in-law shared the story with Chana, something that had become commonplace with Penninah unwilling to hold a civilized conversation. "She was born in Giba to a man named Ebron and a woman named Nissa. Ebron was an engraver who did not know the Lord." Chana folded her arms over her robe, staring out once again at the rising sun as she spoke. "As her mother grew ill she did turn to Lord raising Peninnah to believe in The Most High."

Chana had tried many times imagining Peninnah's lessons of the Most High. She wondered if they been anything like her own. Did she sit for hours listening intently, gobbling figs and dates as she did? Had she been a good child?

"Her mother died when she was still a youth." Chana continued. "After this happened, she and her father came to Ramah. Many knew her father to be a very bitter, possessive man. When suitors asked for her hand, he denied them. Batyah believes he was holding out for the highest bride price, but I think he may have merely wanted to hold on as long as he could to his daughter."

Chana glanced at Arjana, who was still listening intently. "He grieved so badly for his wife that he couldn't bring himself to marry again. Because of this, he had no sons"

Chana sympathized with Peninnah's loss, the sadness. It must have been painful to lose a mother so young. Surely there was no way her father's bitterness didn't affect her.

"So her father must have considered Elqanah as a suitable son-in-law," Arjana said.

"I suspect." Chana could feel the stings of betrayal she'd felt that day resurfacing at the thought. "I'm quite certain she longed to marry and not be chained to her bitter father forever."

"Why did Elqanah choose her?"

Chana froze, bowing her head as she quietly considered her response. It was something she only thought about it when she wasn't distracted by chores. "My husband gave into his desire for a son, a desire I know all too well is impossible to fend off."

"Does he love her?"

Chana didn't respond. What could she say? She couldn't stand pondering such things; all this time she had avoided doing so. "Elqanah took another wife because he could." She lifted her head to meet Arjana's gaze once more. "That wife gave him children. At least it seems my husband still loves and cares for me." Arjana's face was quiet and knowing. It was as if she immediately comprehended that, regardless of what had spawned the decision, Elqanah had done what he deemed necessary to produce heirs. Perhaps her understanding was because she'd once faced a similar fate.

"Your husband does love you," said Arjana. "Indeed he looks at you as though _you_ are the pearl."

But nothing could replace a child. The only one she could turn to when the weight of this truth threatened to crush her entirely was The Most High.

"I'm thankful for my husband."

"Elqanah is a very good man."

Chana smiled proudly after hearing these words. She was glad that her husband was respected despite Peninnah's nastiness and how Chana was seen in the village. Of course, Arjana was clearly different from the other women of the village.

"You said you were foreign born." Chana said. "Where are you from?"

"I was raised in Lubim."

Chana suspected either Lubim or perhaps Cush. Her skin was so dark. It was still a shock to Chana that she could come from so far a place.

"Yaasuw was a traveler. He worked on behalf of the merchants." Arjana pulled her plaited hair around her shoulder. "His traveling did not allow him to have a family and he had no heirs. Weary of this life, he decided to take a wife."

Arjana's smile conveyed her fondness of this memory. She hadn't feared being wedded to a foreigner.

"Whenever he traded with my father he was always kind and respectable. He always treated him with dignity. My father gladly agreed when he asked for my hand."

Chana wondered to herself if she'd considered then that she would have to share the faith of a foreigner. Or had she already known of The Most High?

"I was eager to share his beliefs." Arjana said, as if she was there in Chana's thoughts. "My father believed in logic; he disregarded anything spoken of gods. But I always knew there was something, someone greater then all of us. When my father scoffed and chuckled as he and Yaasuw spoke of his god, The Most High, I listened with wonder and amazement. I hid my fascination from my father, but it overflowed when Yaasuw and I became betrothed. My husband told me he knew The Most High had led him to make the right decision."

Chana was happy that Arjana believed and was loved by her husband, and that they had each other above all else. There were no quarrels, no chaos. How easy life must have been for her.

"We should go see if the men are close to finishing," Arjana said.

Chana nodded. Some time had passed. The sun had brightened everything across the land. The trees, the mountains, everything was illuminated now. Even the birds had come to life with songs. Chana felt refreshed once again. She was ready to move onward even knowing the day held more of Peninnah's taunts. She prayed to have strength like Arjana's.

Before they could reach the encampment, Elqanah and her maidservants came rushing toward her. Their gaped mouths and shifting eyes looked frightened. Nechamah especially was frantic. "Mistress, have you seen little Emuwnah?"

Chana shook her head, feeling her heart pounding as she watched their disappointed reactions to her words. They informed her that they couldn't find her, she'd wandered off while the other children played.

"We do not know how long she's been missing." Elqanah said. She heard Arjana gasp at her husband's words. "We'll have to search all sides."

There was no village in sight. There were only hills, mountains, and streams that cut through them. Chana worried about the dangers Emuwnah might encounter.

"Wife." Elqanah approached her as she stood attempting to control her worrying and took a firm grasp of her hand. "Do you wish to come with me?"

Chana shook her head no. "I'll stay with Arjana. We won't travel too far. We'll just follow this direction down towards those mountains over there." Chana pointed eastward to three green slopes in the distance. She prayed that they wouldn't go that far without sighting the girl.

_Who had the task of watching the children?_ She decided for now she couldn't think about that. She left with Arjana and they continued in the direction they'd gone earlier. The animals and the faint sounds of the other searching parties was all that could be heard. They trekked through the grassy terrain shouting little Emuwnah's name, but heard nothing.

"Should we go in different directions?" Arjana asked. She was breathing heavily. They'd reached a sloping hill and the mountains looked closer now.

Chana thought for a moment about them separating. If they didn't travel too far from each other they could assure they'd be able to locate one another. But, there was also a chance that Emuwnah had gone the opposite direction.

"We can meet back here." Chana suggested. "I'll just check up there." She pointed to a rocky area that would probably require careful steps. Arjana looked once to make sure she was able to start on the path and then went the opposite direction. Chana climbed and climbed, her sandaled feet sore and filthy, until the path evened out. She realized now the mountains were even closer. She wondered how far she had actually traveled from the camp. While she was taking a few unsteady steps she heard the sound of a shriek. _Emuwnah_, she thought.

She hurried to the sound of the voice shrieking again. A basket full of berries was discarded near a rock ledge. The shriek came again, but there was no one in sight. Chana grew fearful as she got closer and recognized that the voice was indeed Emuwnah. She drew nearer to the ledge and saw Emuwnah hanging onto a piece of sloping land and writhing in pain.

"Arjana!" she shouted.

**A/N: 9/2/10 - For reasons that will probably make many of you supportive readers happy in the long-run, I'll have to discontinue this work on FF for a while. It's definitely still a WIP, and hopefully you'll REALLY see it sooner than later presented in a different way. I'm still not sure whether to leave the complete 5 chapters up. Thanks so much for your kind and supportive words!**


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